


Sponsor My Heartbreak

by gotfanfiction



Series: Twitter nonsense [6]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: And Jaskier likes her so goddamned much, Angst, Attempted Murder, Blood, Bodice-Ripper, F/M, LITERALLY, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sugar Mama Yennefer, Yen is a bitch, ha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26436556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotfanfiction/pseuds/gotfanfiction
Summary: To his surprise she didn't immediately flay him alive.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Twitter nonsense [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024782
Comments: 6
Kudos: 76





	Sponsor My Heartbreak

**Author's Note:**

> The title is sadder than the fic, but I like it so it's staying. It's my first Yenskier fic! It's also the first time I've written actual f/m smut in years, so if it's awkward I'm sorry?

Jaskier was almost certainly going to die here, stabbed by a man he could barely remember sleeping with, who had turned out to be a bit obsessed with him, and deeply unhappy at being abandoned by 'the love of his life', and  _ really, _ how did he keep finding himself in these situations? 

He dodged a swipe, sweating, trying to grab for the dagger he kept in his boot, always, but the man was too close, too fast, and pain bloomed on his arm, blood staining his doublet; his fingers curled around the hilt just as he was slashed again, this time right across his forehead.

Outfit ruined,  _ face _ ruined, and Jaskier was absolutely  _ done _ with everything, with everyone, with life in general, bleeding profusely in a dank little alley, and he blindly drove his own weapon into the other man's belly, half blind from blood in his eyes. 

"Well," an unfortunately familiar voice rang out, a bright contrast to his attacker's spluttering, knife falling to the ground with a clatter, body joining with a  _ thud. _ "I didn't think you had it in you, bard. You won't be needing my help, after all."

_ Yennefer. _

She was as achingly beautiful as she always was, wrapped in dove grey silk and black feathers, and Jaskier was grateful to see her, for once, because while they were never particularly friendly he knew she would help him if asked. It may be conditional, but Jaskier had been born noble, spent most of his time involved in various courts. He was used to it.

"Don't suppose you've got some bandages stuffed in your bodice?" He grinned, weakly, arm held close to his body. "Or a salve hidden about?" 

She cocked her head at him. "But bloody and bedraggled is such a good look for you." 

He pulled a face at her. "Could you at least portal me to my room? I literally cannot see anything." 

A hand on his arm. "I'll take you to where I'm staying. I don't feel like stepping one foot in whatever shithole you managed to acquire."

Jaskier couldn't disagree with her. This whole town was a shithole. It's why he'd been here. He didn't think he would be followed.

His stomach lurched, but his arm really did hurt like a bitch, and the nausea of portal travel was easy to ignore in the face of it. He was worried about the cut on his face as well. Bards with unsightly scars were less likely to be hired on, and he was getting older on top of everything else.

He let himself be pushed down onto a plush seat, still mostly blinded, forehead burning, and he could hear Yennefer moving around, bottles clinking together, papers crinkling, and he could smell something, too, floral and sweet. He tried to think of something else, but found himself circling the same thoughts he'd been having for months, now.

Soon enough he would  _ have _ to accept the teaching position at Oxenfurt, full time, rather than just lecturing for a semester before fucking off to wherever Geralt was making noise. Gods, how had he even  _ made _ it to forty, following a Witcher around? He was such a fool.

His head was tipped back, Yennefer getting straight to work mopping up his face, salves and rags at the ready, and wasn't that the funniest thing, imagining Yen as an adequate nurse, tender as anything. The funniest part is that he wasn't even having to imagine it. 

Yennefer was being awful gentle right now, which was suspicious, but Jaskier had been having a rough go of it lately, and he wasn't so proud that he'd turn it away. He was really sort of overwhelmingly tired, sponsors thin on the ground, now, less offers for him to come stay with a lord or a lady for a few months. 

Less money in his pockets, as well. Getting old was expensive, and he refused to have to deal with any longer. Eyes cleared from blood, gash on his face cooled from whatever the sorceress had smeared on it, he chanced a look over to where Yennefer was selecting a bottle, bandages in one hand. 

"Yen," he said, the sheer opulence of the room he was in sinking in. "Where the fuck are we?" 

"We're in a bedroom." She clicked her tongue at him, which he took as his cue to remove his ruined clothes, tossing them somewhere over his shoulder, where they hit the ground with a wet  _ plop, _ how fucking disgusting. "Old age can do terrible things to a man's mind. Didn’t realize it had already gotten to you." 

Excuse him. His wit was sharper than her elegantly raised brow, and she fucking knew that. "Goodness, how could I have  _ missed _ it? Now that I'm thinking of it, that massive bed over there should have been my first clue. Let me be clear: who's house have you bamboozled them out of?" 

She looked up from her work long enough to smirk at him. "Some lord of something or other. He was a pig, so I sent him to live with them. He's in the barn right now, if you'd fancy a look." 

Oh. 

Oh, that was  _ terrible,  _ and so fucking  _ funny, _ and Jaskier bent over in a laughing fit, Yen clucking at him as he jostled her off his arm. But she was laughing as well, and he was a jealous bitch, he really  _ really _ was, but he had  _ eyes, _ thank you very much, and no one could argue against Yennefer being at her most beautiful with a genuine smile on her face. 

Not that he had anything to be jealous of anymore, besides the vague envy at her perpetual youth, and he'd been miserable lately, and Yen was lovely when she wasn't ripping him to shreds, -and even then, she was gorgeous- so he turned and kissed her, blood in his teeth, arm stinging like mad from whatever concoction she'd put on it.

To his surprise she didn't immediately flay him alive, instead opening her mouth and licking the blood away, the arm that hadn't been sliced open rising to bring her closer; her hands were sticky but she ran them through his hair anyways, because even with her tongue in his mouth Yen was Yen, and Yen was a bitch. 

So was he, in the interest of honesty, and he put a little more teeth in the kiss than he normally would have, carelessly plucking her sleek feathers to get to the latches on her dress, and the next thing he knew was that they were in that stupid enormous bed, his arm didn’t hurt even a bit anymore, and she was doing a marvelous job of bouncing on his prick.

He dragged her dress down, the bodice puddling up with her skirt, and weren’t those a pair of wonderful tits? Jaskier sucked a nipple in his mouth, fingers twisting at it’s sister, other hand busy snaking under silk to get to her clit; she was so wet his fingers slipped away at first, which set her off laughing again, which set  _ him _ off, and he felt it should be stranger than it was, giggling like a lunatic while he fucked his hips into a woman who could kill him with a twist of her fingers. 

It didn't feel strange. It was actually almost perfect, and he was mesmerized by the way she threw her head back when she came, hair slipping about all over the place, her throat a long temptation. He was terrible at resisting temptation, so he bit at her neck, her nails sharp on his scalp, and he was a gentleman whatever anyone else might say about it, and he worked her to another peak before he gave into his own climax with a shudder and a groan. 

She propped herself up on her hands, smile lingering about her eyes, neck and chest red from him chewing on her, because, as he said, he was absolutely as bitchy as she was. He absently wondered if this is where the flaying would begin, but judging by the careful finger she ran across his brow that would be a while coming, yet.

*--*

Jaskier was nearly finished for the night, hands and feet a bit sore but not overly so, a tiny itsy bit tipsy from his pilfered wine, and they loved him tonight, cheering and singing and stomping along. Yen smirked at him from where she was lounging, having retrieved her cup from him with a filthy kiss to his mouth and mean little pinch to his ass. 

He could feel the wax smeared around his mouth, and he probably looked debauched and horny, but so did she, eyes hot over her smudged makeup. Jaskier loved their matching outfits, not wearing black very often, Yennefer insisting, and it was no skin off his nose, her dubiously acquired coin paying for the whole getup, though getting dressed had taken  _ forever, _ both of them with poor impulse control and high libidos.

He wasn't as worried about sinking into retirement and obscurity, Yen happy enough to portal them wherever they wanted to go, and traveling was so much easier with a powerful sorceress, and, if he was being honest, he felt younger than ever, misery more or less banished. 

The two of them made a marvelous duo, and Jaskier was more than content to let himself be spoiled and dressed up. And Yen had promised to bring out the toy he liked best, later, when everyone had left, if he begged her prettily enough. 

He was going to be so fucking pretty. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a drabble. A DRABBLE. What even is my life, anymore? Come yell with me on twitter @gotfanfiction


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